


Devil for a Night

by CheshireCatnip



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Alcohol, Consensual, Dark Mammon, F/M, Female MC - Freeform, Fingerbang, Halloween Costumes, I am new to tagging, Mammon in love, Mammon simps for MC, Mammon takes care of MC, Mammon x Reader - Freeform, One Shot Collection, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Protective Mammon, Sexual Tension, Sweet Mammon, Tension, Vaginal Fingering, if ya know what I mean, issa Halloween Party in Devildom, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24280225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireCatnip/pseuds/CheshireCatnip
Summary: All Mammon rightfully knew were two things:One. You set him pitifully ablaze with desire to be near you, hear your voice, to feel your touch. And,Two. That he would stop at nothing until you said for yourself that you were his, and his alone.He burned to keep you.(MC convinces the brothers to throw a Halloween party at the House of Lamentation! Drama, romance, smut, and some violently protective Mammon awaits you!)& Check out my other Obey Me fics while you’re at it! c;
Relationships: Main Character & Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character/Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader, Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Comments: 102
Kudos: 510





	1. Party Starter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has come to my attention that many of us (including myself) would like an additional chapter for this. I’m opening it up to that possibility and I’ll hopefully work it into my future plans soon. :)

Exhaling a hot stream of air, you let Simeon set into place the final touches to your ensemble for the night. 

“If I could be curt, I really think we went the wrong direction here,” he mused simply as he looked over your shoulder into the floor length mirror before you both. 

“You’d look much more radiant in white.” 

Your eyes traced the unfamiliar form you saw standing in the silver reflection, and your chest yet again filled with a shaky inhale. Why were you so nervous? This had been solely your idea. 

According to the mortal world, today was Halloween. Those in the Devildom hardly acknowledged such earthly holidays. Honestly, Levi was the only one to share in your excitement when you mentioned it earlier this month at dinner (“so many great anime have Halloween episodes!” he had exclaimed), while the other brothers seemed to slowly become aware of a custom long forgotten. After all, what is an annual holiday to beings who have lived for thousands of years? What was time to an immortal? 

Simeon noted your careful consideration, the gears turning in your mind, and he squeezed your shoulders briefly in apology. 

“I’m teasing! You look wonderful. Of course, you know I must always speak on behalf of the Celestial Realm, even as a guest in the Devildom.” He smiled at you gently through the mirror. “But I have to admit, you’re the most angelic demon I’ve ever seen.”

It was Halloween in Devildom, and you were dressed as a demon. 

The idea wasn’t exactly as clever as you had hoped it would be in hindsight. For earth, this costume was quite played out, actually. But the thought had struck you not long after you had begged and begged the boys to agree to throw and personally attend a small Halloween party at the House of Lamentation, and your sheer excitement of the subject forced them to relent to the proposition.  
That is, with the exception of Lucifer. 

You remembered that dinner and your sheer determination to have something, just one little thing to make you feel like a normal human again after months of living in Hell. You remembered the feeling of the pout adorning your lips, the way you forced your eyes to tremble as you looked up through your eyelashes at the ebony-haired demon at the head of the table. It had been eerily quiet in that moment, as the remaining six brothers looked between you and the eldest. It was never wise to challenge the Avatar of Pride, even in something seemingly so small as a one-night party, but you had always seemed to make it your _duty_ to challenge the demon, never once backing down if you could help it. It wasn’t your most safe trait to possess. 

Lucifer had met your puppy-dog eyes with that of his own unimpressed crimson orbs, and with a single syllable he shot down your hope. 

“No.”

Forgetting your age and place, you had groaned the groan of a teenager back on earth, “Come on, Lucifer! I’ve been doing well in all my classes, I’ve kept up with my share of the housework, and it’s just one party...” you had pleaded, glancing down pitifully now at the dining table for dramatic effect, “...I never hardly ask for anything, you know.” 

Silence. 

And then you had heard the faintest hint of a sigh. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was all worth it and quite exciting up until this moment when embarrassment blossomed in the pit of your stomach. What in Devildom had taken over you when you ordered all this from Akuzon? Oh, you remembered... that entire bottle of earth realm wine that Levi had snuck back with him after a convention awhile back. 

In true Halloween tradition, your outfit was bold and just nearly too inappropriate for an angel like Simeon to help you into. Certain details of it were fleshed out, thoughtful fashion mementos to the true demon forms of your housemates—like the gem that adorned the center of your forehead over your third eye, mimicking that of Lucifer’s, although you had chosen a rainbow gem in favor of it including all the boys’ associated hues. Tasteful, right?  
And then there were the coupled straps that crossed over your revealed belly, not unlike the black straps that fell across Mammon’s chest when in his true form.  
And then the rest of the outfit wasn’t quite so thought out, and had been added to the virtual cart after that wine had gone down so smoothly...

Sleek black latex held your skin in a vice grip, hugging and accentuating all the right places. Completing your outfit was a suggestive pet collar and the pointed nails Asmodeus had treated you to earlier in the week.

For true authenticity of your demonic appearance, Solomon had aided you with a temporary shape-shifting potion that gave you rough, spiraled horns and a set of feathered onyx wings for approximately 12 hours, give or take. The real deal, too, minus the actual powers since it was just a shape shifting effect, after all. You had been so excited that you made the mistake of drinking the potion the second you got back to your room, having not known how long it would take to go into effect. You had figured it would leave you plenty of time to get ready for tonight’s festivities as you digested the foul liquid. 

The change had been instantaneous. A school shirt was ruined in the process when newfound wings tore through it, unable to be controlled yet. By the time you had whipped around to face into the mirror to gaze at them, two horns the color of fresh blood gazed right back from the top of your head. This was when you had decided to text Simeon to ask for help, not knowing how you would maneuver a corseted brassiere over your virgin wings alone, and the aftermath of said help had left you only partially traumatized from the embarrassment of a literal angel seeing you in your skimpy undergarments. A true angel in your midst, he had simply began to help dress you like a doting mother sending their child off to a day of school.

Your initial plan had been to go all out, black lipstick and dark eyes and all, but you lost nerve somewhere down the line and went with a natural look, dewy and soft and pink, as close to heavenly ethereal as you could muster. It was a sharp contrast to your temporary demonic form and now seemed more lewd than you had intended. 

But you brushed away your anxiety and told yourself that everything was going to be great. Tonight wasn’t just Halloween—it was a night the brothers all had decided to devote to the silly human they had all come to (secretly) adore. 

Looking at Simeon through the mirror, you grinned giddily, finally letting your weariness evaporate. Popping a hand to your hip, you blew a single kiss at each of your reflections. “My angel of confidence, what would I do without you?” 

“You would probably be attending the party in a robe, for starters,” he winked right back as he turned to adjust his own costume. He had chosen fashionably well to be a Pharaoh of ancient Egypt, complementing his olive skin with elaborate golden jewelry and an awfully sheer white kilt around his hips. 

Chuckling, you faced him and returned his help by straightening his headdress. “You’re not wrong about that. These wings definitely have a mind of their own.” Behind you, the newborn appendages twitched at their mention. 

“Their mind is _your_ own. Be careful not to let them give you away. They react to your mood like a dog with its’ tail,” he explained. “Now, let’s get downstairs. I can’t wait for you to see Luke’s costume!” He gave one last encouraging smile before he opened the door, ushering you out into the hallway. 

Descending the staircase, you couldn’t help but let nervousness flood back in. What if this was too much? Worse, what if the boys were _offended_ at your costume, thinking it a mock portrayal of how you saw them in their natural states? 

“Ah, Simeon! You look so lovely!” belted Luke from the foyer below. He was dressed as Cupid, his small but radiant wings out free behind him and a leather harness sat across his bare torso, holding a red bow and quiver of arrows that peaked over his shoulders.  
Solomon trailed in behind him through the front doors, dressed considerably less exuberantly as what you could only guess was the cheapest wizard costume an earth realm Halloween shop could offer. You stifled a chuckle. 

“Solomon, couldn’t you have bothered to be a little more creative with your costume?” you teased as your feet hit the ground of the foyer. He peered at you from under his purple and silver wizard hat. 

“I’m sorry, I must not have had much time to really hone it in since I was busy helping someone else with their own.” His eyes left yours to trail up to your horns. “I see it worked out quite well, however.” 

Blowing a raspberry at the sorcerer, you spun to then look at the young angel instead. “You make an adorable Cupid, Luke. Very fitting choice!” 

He bowed his head quickly, partially embarrassed yet mumbling a polite thanks in return. You had expected him to be shy of you tonight, being as you were dressed as you were. Solomon had let the fellow angels know of your costume ahead of time so they didn’t panic upon seeing you suddenly with literal devil’s horns and et cetera out of nowhere. The elder angel seemed perfectly accustom to seeing a revealed body, however, and while Solomon had definitely given you a good once-over when he thought you weren’t looking, he didn’t seem to think it too much either. Maybe everything would be fine, but only the demons in the living room would tell. 

Said living room currently held a plethora of demons of varying power and authority. Although Lucifer had tried to retain his stance on it being a small gathering of just the house members, Lord Diavolo caught wind of the ordeal and, needing no permission, decided to join along with Barbatos and took it upon himself to invite virtually the entire school. The Demon Prince absolutely loved the idea of a Halloween party and thought it was a very interesting way to get the beings spread across three realms to mingle in a more relaxed setting. It was also due to his presence and technical supervision that a moderate amount of alcohol would be supplied for the occasion. 

“Let’s not keep the others waiting any longer, hm? I’m sure Lord Diavolo hasn’t let them begin much without our arrival. Poor Beel must be dying to eat.” Offering you his elbow, Simeon lead you behind Luke and Solomon to the room you were both terrified and enthralled to enter. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 _Tink. Tink. Tink._

Mammon tapped the gemmed edge of his scepter lightly to his glass, both bored yet filled with energy. He sat back against the cushions of the couch, legs splayed out, relaxed yet rigged. How was he so many conflicting things? He kept fidgeting, tapping a foot, tapping the scepter, tapping the glass. He’d fiddled with the material of his royal cape until he had worn a small hole into the liner on one side. He flicked it away from him dramatically, letting it settle into the seat beside him. 

“What’s your major malfunction, Stupidmammon? You didn’t shut up about this for days and now you look miserable,” Leviathan spoke up across from him. 

“Hey, piss off! What, am I botherin’ you, sitting there in yer lame little roleplay outfit?” Mammon glared at his younger brother, one of many. 

“It’s COSPLAY, not roleplay! My costume is way better than yours, anyways! It’s the peak of irony for you to dress as a King!” the purple haired demon retorted. 

“Laaame. Your roleplay’s lame.” 

“Eren Jeager isn’t lame, Mammoron! You don’t even watch the show, why do I bother...” Leviathan trailed off as he stood and stormed away from the Avatar of Greed, leaving him alone in the sitting space. 

Across the room, Beel assisted Barbatos with setting the last few dishes out on decorated blood spattered banquet tables. Beel hadn’t quite understood the concept of Halloween and must have gotten considerably confused about a costume, as he simply wore a loose Santa hat over his fiery locks. The mention of food wasn’t the focal point of the holiday, so why bother putting in too much effort?  
Belphegor was barely visible wrapped in a blanket in a reading chair nearer to the fire place, covering his face to get his own personal bit of darkness and privacy from the mass gathering. He needed to slumber until he couldn’t any longer. Satan sat in the reading chair opposite him, wound up in a book despite the celebratory social setting.  
In front of the large arched windows that paralleled the more spacious half of the room were Lord Diavolo and Lucifer, the latter demon watching patiently as the other paired his D.D.D. to the surround system and began to shuffle through a playlist of god knows what. Mammon could only imagine the weird shit Diavolo indulged in from the human world’s music arsenal. A song that seemed to have no lyrics but all heavy bass bellowed out, and in front of the speakers twirled dozens of demons as well as Asmodeus, taking full advantage of his human costume’s length as he danced. What had he said he was, a geesha? Whatever, one of those human ladies with the painted white faces and red lips and the long flower dresses, Mammon recalled. 

With a careless plop, Mammon let his head fall back to meet the cushion behind him, exhaling a long sigh. His King’s crown toppled down the back of the couch onto the floor with a _clang!_  
He didn’t want to think about how anxious he was. He didn’t want to think about how much he had actually looked forward to tonight.  
He really didn’t want to think about his human.  
And he really didn’t want to think about where you were right now, and why you weren’t here yet, and why you weren’t here _beside him_ already, and what you would think of his costume, because he really and truly tried to go big with it—The GREAT Mammon, King for a night—knowing you were so excited about this weird human party that he definitely didn’t give a shit about, and he really absolutely didn’t want to think about what you were wearing and when he could just _see you already—_

 _Goddamn,_ he rolled his eyes at himself and tried to drown his train of thought with a hefty swig from his glass when he heard a hearty greeting from behind, exclaimed even over the bellow of the beat dancing from the speakers. 

“Good evening, everyone! Merry Halloween!” Simeon chirped happily only to be shushed quickly by you, followed by a giggle. It wasn’t until Mammon’s trained ears picked out that very distinct giggle of yours that he turned around in his seat, and he nearly spat out his damn drink. 

You. 

What the hell were you trying to do to him? 

For someone who’s lived as and looked at demons for millennia, he never expected to be so absolutely in awe of the creature before him. 

His human, his sweet human, stood in the doorway like the sworn definition of contrast to the angels on either side of you. Mammon watched your head dip down, unready to look out into the room and meet any singular pair of eyes. Any other time he would be aggravated at this feeble attempt to hide, demanding your attention right this instant like he usually does.  
But this time was not like those times. 

Thoughts barely formed. His eyes were trained on your form, taking in every bit of your features slowly and meticulously. The burn of his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed to him, and he silently thanked the dim lighting. 

The room may have been dimmed, but there was so much light when he looked at you. He watched as you gathered courage to greet Barbatos and Beel, both of whom were polite enough and only looked at you a split second longer than Mammon would have liked. Truly Beel just needed the ‘ok’ to start eating because he made a quick beeline back towards the banquet tables after greeting you, to which your entourage trailed after him to get their share before it was demolished at the hands of the Avatar of Gluttony.  
How quickly you now stood alone. 

Raising your head, it was like you already knew exactly where Mammon sat within the crowd. Your eyes met his for all of a moment before a voice belted out your name. 

Lord Diavolo sauntered towards you, ushering you with beckoning hands as laughter spilled from him. He and his right-hand man were dressed together in costume from some movie topside. “Men in Black,” Diavolo had told him. The black suit was about the only outfit the Demon Prince could get Lucifer to agree to wear. 

“You look absolutely ravishing! Quite the costume, my little one,” he took your hand in his and bent to bestow a peck of a kiss to it. Mammon watched as you shrunk into yourself ever so slightly, shy and surprised. 

Lucifer stood off to the side of Diavolo, his eyes transfixed onto you without a care, eating up your image. You seemed to notice none of this as you addressed the Demon Lord, but Mammon was watching everything. 

The Avatar of Pride’s gaze red like hell flame, he waited until you turned to him to speak, simply saying, “Lord Diavolo said it best. It is **quite** the costume.” The smirk that played on his face was undeniable as he looked you over. His let his eyes follow from your shoes upwards to the gem centered between your brows, afterwards glancing into your eyes just long enough to give you a knowing look. You sheepishly grinned, fidgeting where you stood. 

Twisting back to sit forward in his seat, Mammon inwardly seethed and tried to ease himself out of this godforsaken pity party he was throwing for himself before he did something outright embarrassing. 

Like he usually did when he got jealous.

Like he always was, when it came to you. 

But there’s no way in Hell you could ever know that. Nah, you couldn’t ever know the possessiveness he felt for you. His brothers made him feel like a fucking dope for it constantly, and it’s pushed him into this little corner where he feels like he doesn’t stand a goddamn chance with you. Not like that’s what he _should_ be thinking of trying to do, because you’re just here to go to school for Dia-fuckin-volo’s little project and to be gawked at by all his dickbag brothers who equally didn’t deserve you, so _why_ were you always there, lurking in his mind no matter what he was doing, surrounded by that light you carried all around you? The light that made it so hard to look anywhere else... anywhere but at you? 

“You know, you’re not much of a King without your crown, Mammon.” 

Your voice brought him from a trance he didn’t realize he was in. A slight weight dropped down over his wisped hair and was adjusted with ease, centered back in its rightful place upon its ruler. 

“There, better now,” you smiled, hunched forward to rest your elbows on the back of the sofa next to him, trying to get a good view of the completed ensemble of the Avatar of Greed. The room was really only illuminated by multicolored bulbs and lighted decor, mostly purple and orange to match the holiday, so light wasn’t on your side. 

But he looked so, so handsome. He was dressed as regally as you’d ever seen him, with a lush royal cloak black as the night with golden engravings all across it, a lavish crown and jeweled scepter that was just tall enough to reach his hand at his standing height, you believed. Underneath his cloak he had chosen to go quite modern in a full red suit, minus a button-up under his jacket. The demon’s tanned skin lay visible from neck to nearly belly button, and with great surprise you noticed the silvery white markings that adorned his demon form tracing along the revealed skin. 

As your eyes traced their way back up his chest and to his face, rather grimly you noted that Mammon wasn’t even looking at you. Your brows furrowed.  
In a second you had rounded the corner of the couch he was seated on and sat directly in front of him on the coffee table, crossing your arms.  
Mammon’s gaze was focused intently on his scepter, a thumb smoothing circles into the flat circumference of the ruby centered in the handle. He seemed less than happy, and worry overtook you. 

“Did something happen?” you muttered, nearly drowned out by the music playing behind you, but you knew he could hear you regardless. Demon ears and whatnot. 

Mammon’s only response was to thunk the end of the scepter at the ground, a singular stab. His other hand swirled a rocks glass filled with dark liquid. 

You pouted hard now, definitely feeling ignored. Your newly sprouted wings shook quickly, like a bird willing water droplets from its feathers. Rocking forward, you stole his scepter from his hand and gave him a hearty whack in the thigh with the bulk end. 

“Oi, watch it! What’s that for?!” the demon bellowed dramatically, finally looking up at you. 

“For ignoring me! As if you have any good conscience to be doing so.” You crossed your arms again, the scepter held between your thighs for safe keeping in case you needed to get another whack in to drive your point home. 

“I-I’m fine,” Mammon finally offered up while looking away from you yet another time. Up close, it was all he could do to not eat up every inch of how you looked just then, more revealed than he’d ever seen you, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at the same time. Not with this room filled with demonic peers who’d already taken to gawk at your new form and state of undress. The very same group of demonic peers who tortured him for his borderline obsession with you. 

His answer was far from acceptable but you let it slide. The not looking at you, however, was not going to slide. You hardly dared to admit it sober, but the drunk you of the past knew when she ordered this outfit from Akuzon that she was ordering it to get a reaction from Mammon. 

Your Mammon. The very Mammon that was in front of you now, shockingly quiet and—bashful? No way was the cocky, loud Mammon suddenly playing modest at the sight of you. Right?

Maybe it was the comfort you’ve grown to feel around him, or maybe it was the steady trickle of confidence filling inside you, but you kicked out a booted leg to rest on the edge of the seat between Mammon’s parted thighs, a hair away from his crotch. Using that leverage, you pushed yourself back on the table to straighten your body, proudly displaying yourself with a wave of your hand. 

“Whatcha think? Solomon made a potion for me. I’m a demon for a night~” you grinned unabashedly, sticking your pose and looking up at the demon through the wisps of your lashes, tapping the boot between Mammon’s thighs rhythmically with the beat of the song. 

The world inside Mammon’s brain screeched to a dead halt. He kept himself from staring wide-eyed at the intrusion of the boot dangerously close to his most sensitive area. His hand clutched his glass so tightly he feared he may shatter it. The temptation of you dangled so coyly in front of him broke his desire to remain considerate any longer. 

He didn’t care anymore how long he took in drifting his gaze along the leg between his own, up to where your thighs met together deliciously, his stolen scepter held securely between the softness he’d never before seen so much of until now. How he envied that shitty little metal thing perched between your bare thighs, briefly, until his eyes journeyed further and the sleek sheen of skirt lead way up to the tender expanse of your stomach, belts like his own demon form’s just obscuring your belly button from view.  
His dazed sight of you continued the travel north, over the tight curves of your breasts teasingly contained within your brassiere, to the dirty little collar wrapped around your neck.  
And, finally, those hungry eyes met their destination as they ghosted over your face. 

The lovely face of his favourite human turned demon, who now had bright fiery horns that mirrored the flush across your cheeks and nose from your sun-kissed makeup, pink and radiating a light glow even in the dark of the room. He met your eyes more intensely than he meant to, peering through the thick hood of your eyelashes, past your irises and beyond to somewhere deeper. He didn’t realize until then how heavily he’d began to breathe, and deliberately slowed his breath as he kept his eyes fixed to yours. There were a thousand emotions in his sapphire eyes and yet you couldn’t press a finger to a single one. 

Heat licked your ears like waves and your wings flattened against your back, feeling vulnerable to those orbs that bore into your very core. You glanced away meekly, pulling your leg back to yourself.

Or so you tried. You’re not sure when Mammon even set his drink down or how he had caught your leg in his grasp so quickly, for all you knew was you were dragged, along with the coffee table under you, a foot closer to the demon as he studied the area his hands touched. 

You had provoked him well enough under the guise of darkness, and now it was his turn to make you ease back down into your rightful place under him, so to speak. You’d never been so directly flirtatious with him before. He was excited and confused and desperately wanted to see your face flush a deeper shade of embarrassment. He needed you to remember that it was a true demon of hell in your midst, and to tempt a demon of hell was not a light thing to do.

A warm hand curled around the back of your knee, fingers threading briefly through the mesh of your fishnets to brush across the ticklish skin before withdrawing. His other hand sat idly on the warmth of your inner thigh just above the knee. A warning or something else entirely. 

You felt almost overbearingly hot at such a small interaction. Strangely you felt the tips of your horns swell with heat in response, and you wished you could’ve stopped how your wings shuddered so slightly behind you. Seemingly for the first time, the fact became glaringly obvious that the demon before you existed more powerful than your mortal mind could ever fathom. 

Mammon’s head raised to level with yours, but his eyes stayed transfixed to the portion of your body that trembled ever so slightly beneath his hands. He spoke evenly, the careful flow of a challenge being met full force.

“It suits you,” the ringed hand on your thigh then drifted to the one next to it, palm magnetized to the milky flesh. “‘Didn’t expect ya to have such a demon fetish, human.” 

His eyes snapped to yours and that electric hand on your thigh tightened microscopically. “Guess that makes two of us.” 

Demons danced around you out of focus as if warped under the surface of moving water. The rhythm of music pounding the open air around you whined distant in your ears. 

A shuddered breath was all you could manage while blue eyes, flecked with gold, moved close enough for you to drown in. The demon kept true to his assigned sin with the greedy lock he had wound around the bend of your knee, and with precise purpose the opposite hand on your thigh pushed, effectively spreading you less than innocently. 

Mammon leaned further into you and you tried in vain to stifle the yearning that fought its way into your core. Did you even remember how to breathe? You couldn’t remember the motion at the moment. 

The scepter between your legs lifted through your vision, now free from its former trap. The Avatar of Greed’s eyes never left yours as he utilized the leverage of his royal cane to rise to full height, his glass shimmering in his free hand like it had never been missing from it in the first place. He tipped it to you as if toasting in your honor. His seductive allure, dark and rich like chocolate, melted back into his usual bravado. 

Mammon grinned a toothy grin and laughed, sending the prickles of pleasure down your neck. How you adored that sound. 

“Why don’tcha let the KING Mammon get his loyal subject a drink?” You could’ve sworn his eyes flashed for half a second before he continued, “His human looks thirsty.” 

Your mind raced a mile a minute, a race of thoughts that left you in dead last somewhere in the gutter. You tucked a fallen lock of hair behind your ear just to have something, anything to do but think about the heat on your face and the demon in front of you. When was he going to let up? You weren’t sure if you could handle any more of this teasing that sent your heart into a frenzy. 

Finally you managed to stutter out, “Oh-okay!” you briefly shook your head, “I mean, yeah! I’d appreciate that!”

 _‘I’d appreciate that?’_ You sounded lame as fuck right now. It was impossible to match up to Mammon’s unnaturally suave charm. A demon is an otherworldly being after all. 

Half of a smirk twinkled at you as he flowed toward the crowd, quickly disappearing within it. Your gaze remained at the area his form left vacant, unaware of another demon’s presence now near you.


	2. Party Crasher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the second chapter c:  
> THIS CONTAINS SMUT  
> idk—if y’all gimme ideas for a continuation, maybe there could be another one in the future~

“Oh my, what _have_ we here?” 

Already sitting, legs properly crossed, Asmodeus cooed at the sight of you. 

“I figured you had something wonderful up your sleeve, but how could I have guessed it would be _this_ delectable?” his smile curled in affection, clasped hands squished to his cheek as if he were looking at a newborn puppy. “You’re positively adorable! You couldn’t look any cuter even if I had dressed you myself!” 

You chortled, voicing your thankfulness to your doting friend and housemate of lust. He always knew how to alleviate the mood and get you right back to a playful state of mind. 

“You look pretty great yourself, Asmo! You make the perfect Geisha.” 

Truly the epitome of beauty and sexual appeal, Asmodeus beamed. His geiko draped over his figure like satin, a soft violet color that made the warm hues of his eyes all the brighter. His simple makeup brought out his plump lips and almond shaped eyes exquisitely. 

“I know I am, aren’t I~?” he bragged. His smile evened then as he went on, “why don’t you let this Geisha take care of you? I want to see those wings tremble while I can.” 

You swatted at him dramatically, trying to air away his flirtations that you knew were only ever half cocked. Although, the demon of lust would happily maul you if ever given the breath of a chance. It wasn’t like he never thought of it. He loved to think about the ways he could warp your face into pleasure, as he did all beautiful beings. It was his favourite pastime, imagining the breathy moans of the gorgeous creatures around him. 

Fresh glasses in tow, Mammon strolled back to his human, trying not to think about how unashamedly happy he was to be near you. To do things for you. To be your first pact demon... Happy even to be your guardian, as much of a drag as he tried to make you think it was sometimes. 

The sea of lesser demons parted like a canal for him, and confidence swelled in his chest. _That’s right, make room for THE Great Mammon,_ he thought. 

Arriving back to the sitting area where his human await, Mammon addressed Asmodeus with an upturned nod. “Nice dress,” he chastely offered, wanting the interaction to remain brief so he could have his human to himself again. 

“It’s a kimono,” Asmo corrected matter-of-factly, having known the richness of his costume would be lost to his elder brother. He grinned nonetheless, also knowing that would be the best compliment he could ever worm from him. “But I do so thank you, _my liege._ ” Asmo’s amber eyes drank in the view of his brother so formally dressed for once. The lustful being ran a hand along his brother’s lapel in an act of appreciation to the visual, then pat-patted the soft cheek of the demon of greed before strutting off, wishing to become the life of the party yet again. 

King Mammon clicked his tongue at the juvenile treatment, but nothing would be allowed to hinder him tonight. All that mattered was the tiny “demon” sat below him. 

You had moved into the spot beside Mammon’s initial seating arraignment while he sought your beverages. The chance to be closer to you was not lost to him, and he sank beside you without question. 

He rested his scepter against the couch to free a hand, as he had managed to carry both of your drinks in the stretch of a single palm. He offered your glass and smoothly _tink’d_ it against his own. Never had you confided in him what your favourite drink actually was, yet he had made note from any and every time he’d accompanied you to The Fall. You loved the fruity little wastes of money, but he loved the way they always made your nose scrunch in delight when you took your first sip.  
You taste tested your beverage cheerfully. The cocktail flooded over your tastebuds, and suddenly there was that surprised, scrunchy-nosed grin he knew you’d make.

Mammon’s head held high, he casually draped an arm over the back of the couch behind you, the ghost of his nails along your shoulder soft enough to have been imagined. You caught yourself bringing your body closer into his, brushing his side. You peered out into the strobe lights of the crowd. Seeing this night having finally come to fruition enthralled you, but there was a strong comfort in just enjoying your drink and the heat that the familiar proximity to your demon brought you. 

The sapphire and gold irises next to you couldn’t begin to tear themselves away, from your face, from you. He studied the unreal entity beside him, thankful for how you were always so easily entranced by the world.  
Almost as easily entranced as he was by the universe that was you. 

Lights sparkled in the globe of your eyes, fireworks in a black sky. Your lips were wet with the tang of your drink. The steady rise and fall of your unveiled chest set a jogging pace with his own. The scent of you, like the caress of a spring breeze, now close enough to drift over him. 

He didn’t know why he felt like this around you. Hell, if he was being honest, he didn’t even understand what it _was_ that he felt. Greed be damned, it was much more than that. Couldn’t be defined so easily. 

All he rightfully knew were two things:

One. You set him pitifully ablaze with desire to be near you, hear your voice, to feel your touch. And,

Two. That he would stop at nothing until you said for yourself that you were his, and his alone. 

He burned to keep you. 

“...mon? Mammon?”

You were looking at him now, and the spell was broken. He could think again. 

He wrestled a stutter. “Hm, yeah? What?” The low heat returned to briefly singe his cheeks. 

You twinkled at him, teasing but curious, “Are you okay? Is the party that boring for **The** Great King Mammon?” 

With a cursory shake of the head, he glanced between your eyes and the softness of your mouth as he responded. The surging of outsiders around them may as well have been on another plane of existence; he didn’t care while you existed so close to him. 

“‘m great,” he breathed. 

Somewhere in his expression laid the resignation of some deep understanding that you couldn’t grasp, but was quickly gone. 

He bared his teeth in show, proud of his pearly whites. “Shouldn’t ya know that by now? King Mammon’s _always_ great. Anything less’s stuff for the peasants. Don’t worry, y’ll learn. We’ll get it through that human skull’a yours yet.” He ruffled your hair childishly, like the secret affection of the boy next door. 

You feigned offense and playfully jabbed at his ribs. “Oh, what, and you’ll teach me? I bet you’d make _some_ tutor.”

“Hey, I got all the street smarts you’d ever need, kid.” He fondly tapped a free knuckle against the side of your chin, to which you stuck out your tongue. Mammon clicked his teeth together in a warning bite.

Something about the demon seemed more sure than you were used to witnessing. Obviously he was always acting full of himself around others, trying to prove his worth and solidify some rank in a competition he’d created for himself. But the air around him right now flowed differently. He gazed into the mingling of bodies around you like a lion in the pride lands studying weak prey. The phantom hand nearest your shoulder returned and brushed a stroke of static along the responsive slope of your wing, but the touch then evaporated for a second time. 

He flicked his eyebrows up at you, sarcastic, “so what kinda demon are ya ‘sposed to be now, anyway? This your new thing or what?” 

You shrugged against him. “You guys took all the cool ones,” and went on to speak the first idea that occurred to you, “Maybe I’m a succubus?” 

The statement alone sent Mammon’s mind reeling, the intrusive thought of you waking him in his bed all he could see. He envisioned you straddling his hips with nothing but those horns and devil’s wings adorning your body. He could almost feel the friction of you grinding into his cock, taunting him. All at once, his nerves ignited at the imaginary punishment you’d bestow him in this succubi fantasy. He’d be putty underneath the heat of you. 

He gulped, throat dry, and forced what he felt was a passable carefree chuckle. 

“Nuh-no way! Takes a ton’a sex appeal to make it as a succubus. You’d wuss out fersure.” The smallest twinge in his brow made it seem as if his own words were confusing to hear. 

Your cheeks felt tingly. Was it from the quickly empty glass in your hand or the thought of him? “Eh, that’s alright. I already have a duty to this one guy anyways. Told me he’ll look after me or ‘whatever,’” you egged him on. “I just gotta stay his human or I’m sure he’ll never let me hear the end of it.” 

The Avatar of Greed sputtered, wrongly misinterpreting in deep seated insecurity. “Wha-who?!” 

Definitely the warmth of your drink had began to take effect, making you more than loving. You floated in a comfortable buzz and allowed your impulse to carry your head into the crook of Mammon’s neck, remembering to be careful of your horns so as to avoid uncomfort to him. 

“I mean you, my King.” 

Butterflies rattled inside his chest down into his stomach. More than anything, he wanted to scoop you into his lap, have you closer, closer. You were being so cute? With him? Surely you remembered he was gifted the stereotype of the Scummy One, deemed by all to only take and never give? Didn’t you care?

He couldn’t bring himself to verbally respond. He settled for draping his arm around your shoulders, effectively holding you against him, unwilling to let your warmth slip away just yet. 

He realized absently that you were humming against his neck to the song that had just started. _She must like this one,_ he reasoned inwardly, leaning his cheek against your forehead. The partygoers surrounding paid neither of your still bodies any mind. 

You then launched up to face the demon square on. “Oh! I forgot to take Luke’s poison apple pie out of the fridge! Ahh, it’s gunna be too cold to cut properly—“ 

Your wings flapped with each step you jogged toward the kitchen. Luke was sure to chide you the second he caught wind that his homemade Halloween dessert sat abandoned where you had left it to chill. 

The drinks in Devildom always seemed stronger. You felt perfectly silly running alone through the hallway to the kitchen, racing to the fridge and throwing open the doors. You were sure Beel would disown you if he ever found out you kept a fresh dessert from him, in his own kitchen no less! 

However the pie appeared delicious as ever and you breathed a sigh of relief. You fulfilled your trek back to the party, pie in hand, and delivered it safely to an empty spot on the banquet table of sugary delectables. Feeling proud of yourself, it took a predatorial voice beside you an extra moment to grab your attention. 

“Hello there, my little demon. Where have you been all my damnation?” 

The demon beside you was unfamiliar. He was closer to you than ease allowed, looming over your small frame. He perked up when your eyes met his. 

“Earth,” you answered. The giddiness of your drink caused an overly polite lapse in your brain, making you think talking to this demon would be any kind of good idea. “I’m an exchange student.” 

“Oh, you’re an earth realm girl, huh? I’m Atticus.” His gaze undressed you. “Humans aren’t usually my cup of tea, but I must say, you’ve got me all worked up.” The unmistakable grope of his hand steered by your hip to firmly cup your ass. “I bet you’d look great on my dick.” 

Your stomach churned. You mashed your hands against his chest in a feeble attack, which he slapped your ass for, **hard**. Before you could think, you had wound back and kneed him between the legs are hard as you could. His grip on you faltered and you twisted away to dart through the crowd without waiting to see his reaction. 

Your skin screamed where he had struck you, surely a hand-shaped welt growing below your skirt. Your feet sought your guardian, who you quickly spotted in the sitting area where you’d left him. Calmness washed over you a moment too soon. 

You were jerked in a half rotation to face Atticus, wrist bound painfully in his grip. Breaking your wrist free from his hand proved futile, but that issue was overshadowed as his free hand moved to encircle one of your horns. The defied demon jerked you roughly towards him, inciting a sharp hiss of pain. 

Atticus bent deep into your face and spat a single word, “Pathetic.” 

His eyes were now all black, something you’d never seen up close. The lesser demons of the crowd quieted around you and watched with mixed emotions, some patient to see what would happen to this human or worried their soon-to-be dead body would ruin the festivities. 

Atticus squeezed your wrist so hard, you felt pain all the way up to your shoulder. An audible snap pierced your ears, the distinct sound of bone and tendon tearing in unison. 

Except it was the clawed arm that had pried at you that now dangled, broken, in the hand of The Avatar of Greed. Like a lightning strike, he had materialized between you and your attacker. His cape, crown and scepter were abandoned, leaving no sense of comedy to the hostile encounter.

Before Atticus could lunge at Mammon with his remaining good arm, he was lifted well into the air by his throat, a death grip like a boa constrictor choking the airways of its next meal. Your guardian twisted at the arm he had just destroyed. 

Mammon’s vision pulsed red with pure rage. He had half a mind to rip this demon apart piece by piece, but this damned hand that had **dared** to touch **his** human would be the first to go. 

The voice of your King rumbled low like thunder overhead when he spoke your name. 

“ _Go on somewhere._ ” The empty space around Mammon was hazy, dangerous, tinged purple. You watched his nails dig into the paper flesh of the life he held aloft. Atticus’ windpipe was so securely bound that he hung as a soundless struggle. 

You stuttered doe-eyed at your demon’s back, “W-what? No! I—I won’t!”

Mammon was having none of your backtalk. 

His temper lulled near the edge and he launched a threat over his shoulder, “ _Can’t ya ever just do what I fuckin’ say?_ ” Couldn’t you understand that he could not have you bear witness to what he was going to do to this pitiful life he held? 

You flinched, and tried to understand that the anger wasn’t meant for you. Your heart thumped painfully in your chest. Not a minute too soon, Lucifer and Lord Diavolo gathered on either side of the demon of Greed. 

Not bothering to look at the spectacle in his brother’s grasp, the eldest of seven demons leveled his eyes closely to those of the next eldest’s, and began through clenched teeth, “ **Mammon** ,“ 

Azure eyes tore from their prey and crashed into his brother’s crimson. The chaotic static between the two demon brothers clashed like a storm brewing within the room itself. What Lucifer found within the undertow of his sibling’s eyes had made him falter, uncertainty flashing over his features from the sheer strength that currently emitted from Mammon. The pulse of power had briefly taken Lucifer’s breath from him. 

The ebony haired demon continued quietly then, voice discreetly laced with the caution of walking through a starving lion’s den. “I will have no deaths on my property, let alone in the presence of Lord Diavolo.” 

“Now, Lucifer, you’re exactly right,” the lord interrupted from the opposite side. A malice radiating from the future demon king was impossible to miss. He was not the heir to Hell for nothing, but with responsibility came the duty to remain regal at the worst of times. “I would be glad to take care of this demon myself,” he smiled, bared teeth empty of mercy. “That is, if Mammon would care to release him intact.” 

The only thing Mammon cared to do at this moment was disassemble every ligament in this helpless demon’s body. He sneered, fangs bared, in response to the demon lord and settled his eyes on the throat he held. 

_‘If Mammon would care to release him intact?’_ That was fucking rich. 

“ _I ain’t some obedient goddamn **lap dog** like my brother,_” he boomed, shifting to throw a pointed glance at Lucifer to which he glared back, but he did not begin to defy the silver haired demon turned rabid. He would never dare admit it to a single soul, but the rage he saw in Mammon pushed the pit of dread further down his stomach. 

Your body trembled along with your entire wingspan a foot away from your demon elders, glancing side to side as they spoke. None of this would be happening if it weren’t for you. 

If it weren’t for the protection Mammon yearned to provide his frail human. 

You watched intently then as Diavolo leaned into Mammon’s space, unfazed, stopping a hair’s width from the demon’s ear. Whispers fell silent on your human hearing; only the precise movement of the demon lord’s lips alerted you to words actually being spoken. 

Tensing his hand briefly around the bloodied neck of the demon he held aloft, Mammon let go unceremoniously. The body, gasping to fill its lungs, clattered to the floor. The question of what had been said in hushed voice gnawed at you absently. 

Mammon’s chest heaved deep with sigh, peering down as the demon tried to scramble away. The injured being was quickly caught up in Lord Diavolo’s grip, who looked to Mammon with an unsettling grin. 

“Don’t fret,” he spoke loudly to you and your guardian. “You have my word that this boy will be granted just punishment for seeking to harm one of my students.” Grasping the nape of the neck that vibrated with worry, Diavolo circled his eyes around to the party goers.  
“Please, continue with the festivities! I will return.” His eyes flashed to the demon of greed’s and then sent a glance behind, towards you.  
In a shock of amber light, the lord and prisoner were gone. 

Your pulse still erratically fluctuating, you eased towards the demon with which you had formed your first and most memorable pact. You pressed a hand softly into the dip of his back.

“H-Hey, Mammon—,” you began quietly, interrupted when he startled against your fingers. When you started to pull away, your hand caught in his.  
He faced you now. You witnessed the turmoil of his eyes rolling like a sea of waves. 

He then tugged you away, away from Lucifer and through the petty onlookers. You struggled to keep up with his pace. His hand felt like hot coals in yours, the aura around him still whipping like violent violet tendrils. 

The two of you trailed out into the hall leading to the kitchen, now secluded in silence. 

“Mammon, I’m _sorry,_ ” your voice lurched emotionally. Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes, bundling along your lashes. You admit that you had been terrified and entranced by his defense of you. You also felt like it was entirely your fault.  
Mammon dragged you harder in his grip, nearly making you stumble. No verbal response given. Once in the kitchen, he dropped your hand and ran each of his own through his hair, chest still heaving under the red coat of his formerly King’s attire. 

You shrunk into yourself, your wings furling and unfurling against you. The room stifled you as it whirled with the chilling aura that still poured from Mammon. His eyes were shut, lips pursed to hold back the growl that tried to worm its way up and out of him. 

He had guarded you, attacked for you. The least you could do would be to try to quell the raw aggression he couldn’t seem to dispel on his own.  
The image of his human being gripped by another played over in his mind—repeat, repeat, repeat. 

Gathering courage, the human nearly half his size stepped towards him, shoulders squared in determination. You gazed up into his face, strikingly beautiful even in rage. 

You rocked forward to stand en pointe, wrapping your arms around his neck and aligning yourself against his chest. You tenderly pressed your cheek against his own. 

“Thank you, my King,” spoken so quietly it was nearly lost. 

For a moment there was nothing. No movement or sound, no real recognition that he even heard you. And then his arms wound so tightly around your waist that it almost hurt, holding you with all he had. He planted his mouth against your hair line along your temple, otherwise stoic as he supported your weight. 

“Are you hurt?” 

His voice neared it’s usual tone again, anger dissipating along with the frigid aura of his feral hostility. Fingers drifted up along the expanse of wing to caress the nape of your neck, coaxing you backwards just enough so he could look into your face. His chest rolled with worry when he noticed your watery eyes. 

Comfort filled you to be at the attention of his gold flecked gaze, and you shook your head with resolve. “I’m okay. I just—are you?” 

Mammon mindfully regarded your expression. He slid his hand from your neck to cup the side of your face. “I am if my human is.”  
A warm thumb attempted to smear away the tear that fell across your cheek when you closed your eyes to the touch. The gentle brush of his skin made you beam, leaning into it wholeheartedly. Your breath mingled with his in the close proximity. 

Mammon tilted his head near yours, permitting to memory every detail he saw up close. He took advantage of the stretched moment, and realized the bubbling desire that manifested in him as he observed the pink of your lips mere inches from his own. 

All the money and valuables in all three worlds didn’t compare to his need to own your kiss. 

The previous events out in the party room enlisted in him the understanding that he would one day lose you. Mortal life was so grimly short, after all. And how could he bare to live with himself if he never stole a single kiss while you lived and breathed? Especially now, when he held you so securely against him? 

He couldn’t deny himself any longer. The Avatar of Greed had utilized restraint for too many months.

Swiftly he pulled you upwards, taking advantage of your shut eyes. Your toes left the floor while he closed the minor distance that had dared separate you. 

Every sense flared at once as his mouth deepened against yours. The sudden surprise of it almost caused you to open your eyes in shock, to really make sure that what was happening was real. The hand cupping your cheek moved to thread through your hair, pleasantly scratching. You exhaled sweetly against him, squeezing your arms around his neck to reciprocate your want. 

To say Mammon had half expected to be slapped would have been an understatement. Here he was, the embodiment of living greed, a demon who’s more than once used and manipulated others to get what he wanted. But this human of his changed so much of that—at least, when it came to you. Just you. 

He held you as if you might disappear any moment, because honestly, how did he deserve your affection? 

The demon pulled away a fraction from your lips to study the faint blush that tinged your nose and spread. He wondered if he looked as cutely surprised as you did. Never in 5000 years would he have thought he’d be so head over heels to simply kiss a human. 

Mammon started to lower you back to the floor, but you couldn’t bare for the moment to be over yet. He had just kissed you! Mammon! The Avatar of Greed! You weren’t going to let him rethink his action and get all tsundere and act like it was nothing! 

So that’s why you then abused the fact that he was, for all intents and purposes, wholly supporting your weight at the moment. You wrapped both of your legs around his waist and crossed your feet, anchoring yourself to him. 

It was definitely his turn to look surprised. A deep pink blush shattered across his face. His wide eyes hid in vain behind the wisps of white hair that framed his face. 

“W-w-what do ya th-think you’re doin’?!” his syllables stumbled into themselves. You stayed true to the desire to not lose the moment. You sat forward in his arms, straightening to flatten yourself against his chest. His hand that had held your face instinctively relocated to grip one of your thighs, keeping sure you didn’t fall. It was your turn to take his flushed cheeks into your palms, coaxing his gaze into your eyes when you spoke. 

“Kiss me again, Mammon.” 

That was all it took. 

He crashed his lips into yours with such passion that he almost thought the order had been pact-bound. He kissed you over and over, each more deeply than the last. He had no further reason to hold back now. He carried you over to the kitchen island, giving you a place to perch and remain at his eye level—or more importantly, his mouth level. 

Your hands flittered through his hair, down a cheek, along his neck, memorizing the feeling of his naked chest under your fingertips. With you sitting on the table, Mammon’s hands were free to touch you instead of carry you aloft. One hand massaged circles into the small of your back below your wings, the other gripped your chin to tilt it upwards so he could properly bite your lip, licking it. Your mouth opened to allow his tongue to explore yours willingly, cooing your praise. 

A wave coursed through the demon at the sound of your subtle moan. _Oh,_ how he needed to hear more of that. 

He broke the kiss, stretching a spiderweb of saliva between you as he moved down to your neck. He peppered wet kisses along every sensitive spot you had there as if he owned a map of where they lay. Both of his hands now ran along your sides and then your thighs, teasing his fingers along the hem of your bunched skirt. 

Your breath was beginning to quicken as content sighs fell, encouraging the demon of greed further. You willed your hands to find the button of the coat that sealed away Mammon’s bare torso from you. Once opened, you pushed it down and off his arms, letting it land ungracefully to the ground. You slipped your hands along his stomach, reveling in the tautness of his warm skin. 

Mammon drifted a hand back into your hair and up to one of your horns. For the second time in a night it was held, but this time gently. He ran the pads of his fingers up and down it, sending dull thrums of pleasure down the back of your head and extending down your neck where he nipped at you hotly. 

He then bit down on the mound where neck met shoulder, overcome with a need to mark you. You gripped his hips at the belt, trying to still yourself against the clouded pain. 

Mammon’s breath fogged over the bruised skin he created. He gave the tender wound a long lick in apology, earning a squirm that had you unconsciously dragging his hips further, lightly grinding his pelvis to the heat centered between your spread legs. 

“Mamm—aaah,” your voice caught on itself. 

The demon against you stilled his assault on your neck, pulling away to peer down at you. 

You breathed hard, looking down to where your lower bodies connected. He let his own eyes register your position. 

Your face was a deep hue of red, half lidded eyes a gateway to your desires. Your mouth hung slightly, perpetually parted to struggle through a whole breath. Your skirt bunched up so high on your hips now that he easily identified the thin lace underwear you wore, pressed against his crotch. The mere sight made his growing length twitch within his dress pants. 

Your fingers curled over the material of belt, teasing under the edge of his pants. You tugged him gently forward, bashful, meeting his gaze to shyly ask approval. Reading your mind, he rocked his hips against you harshly, a single thrust. You gasped, sweet like honey. 

Mammon grinned maniacally, like he had just found a hidden treasure to keep all for himself.  
“Ah, like that, huh?” His hands moved around to grasp at the back of your thighs, slithering under skirt to cup your ass. He repeated the motion of his hips, slower this time, pressing you against him in sync. He savored the sound of you emitting another shaky breath, but it only fueled his desire more. 

He ground into you, brutally teasing cloth over your clit in repeated circular motion. The stimulation was so delicious, and you met every movement with growing need. 

Mammon circled a hand firmly under the bend of your ass to drag you upwards against him. Minding your wings, he utilized the leverage to lean you back into an angle he could more properly roll against your growing wetness. His mind raced with thoughts of one day taking you just like this, with the sight of you completely bare, sweating, letting go. 

He brought you back to his lips and kissed you hungrily, working the press of his fingers down your body to stop at your soaked panties. He ran a single digit against the warm bundle of nerves beneath the lace, damp with want. You couldn’t contain the sensual moan that came from you, echoed in Mammon’s unmistakable groan. Your core was so slick with invitation that he almost couldn’t stand it; it was all he could do to not rip your panties off and sink into your wetness right there on the table. 

But while tonight had been a fair mixture of good and bad, he decided that would best wait for another time.

However, your wanton sounds mixed with the frantic grinding of your hips had Mammon knowing he had to take care of you. 

He watched as you panted heavily now, coiling against his clothed cock with your mouth parted, gasping and mewling just for him. You were being so good for your demon. You deserved a reward. 

The demon’s hand deftly returned to the wetness of your underwear and shoved them aside with a thumb, tracing a phantom finger over your now exposed clit. You seductively sang your approval. 

“Haah, Mammon...!” his soul ignited at the sound of his name dripping in your ecstasy. 

Your body was in the throes of pleasure, in the shock of what was happening. Your demon’s hands on you felt like a waking dream, his blue bedroom eyes hazy as he watched you begin to succumb to raw desire. You were the show, he was the orchestrator. 

He caressed the folds of your core, plump with arousal at his touch. He teased your lips, purposely avoiding now the one place he knew you wanted. You raised to buck your hips, chasing his touch, but a hand roughly stilled you by the hip. 

Mammon’s Greed had hardly subsided. If anything, the display of you only deepened his need for sin. 

Briefly the tip of a finger prodded your entrance before withdrawing, asking _Tell me, is this what you want?_  
He searched your eyes for the emotion he felt within his own. His eagerness to bring you pleasure shown through in his face, sexy and sweet. The erratic in-and-out of his lungs catching oxygen made his silver markings dance along his chest. 

Your needs were clashing, one side of you begging to be taken while the other was in awe of his gentleness. Your indecisiveness fell away as you brought his flushed face to yours for another kiss, your other hand moving to stroke his strained length through his pants. Feeling his heated groin flush against your palm flamed the ache between your legs. 

You wanted everything he could give you. 

He shuddered against both sets of your lips before pulling away, expression tense. He shook his head once, eyes on fire, and grasped your hand to lead you away from his hardness. 

This was about you. 

Or, if he’s being honest, this was about how badly Mammon wanted to watch his own fingers fuck his human into submission. He wanted to fully savor making you cum by his hand for the first time. He wanted to learn everything about how you would sound, look, how you would _feel_ when you orgasmed around him. He ached to soak up every bit of knowledge that made up the desires of the succubus in front of him. 

Watching his own hand spread you apart, he gave a single order. 

“I need ya to tell me,” he purred. He rubbed a finger over your entrance, the pressure just enough to have you writhing in anticipation of being filled. He was acting a damned tease, and he knew it. He reveled in how your brows furrowed while you looked at him, face clouded in primal need. 

“Puh... please, Mammon... I need—“ he quickly flicked your clit, underwhelmed by your words. You stuttered a breathy squeal. The smirk playing on his features was more sadistic than you ever imagined seeing. 

“Uh-uh. Is that how ya address your King?” his eyes shimmered, intent. 

Embarrassment flooded in, trying to turn your gaze from the demon who taunted so cruelly. He caught your chin, keeping your eyes focused on him and what he was doing to you. 

You looked so delectably shameful as you began your plea again. 

“P-please, My King...” quickly rewarded with a swirled motion over your sensitive nub, distracting you. 

“ _’Please,’_ what?” he tilted his head at you, fangs bared in delight. He never expected to get such a kick out of making his human burn with embarrassment like this. You were the only being he wanted to make squirm, and he absently hoped you’d repay him the sweet torture some time. 

He smoothed his thumb across your trembling bottom lip as you hushed, “H-help me cum... please... My King—“

Mammon wanted to live a thousand years in those words. 

He waited no longer to thrust his index finger into you, slowly curling inside to test your tightness. 

And, _fuck_ , if you weren’t tight. 

Your mouth formed a silent ‘o,’ relishing the feeling of finally being filled, though partially. Your wings fluttered behind you, unable to control themselves. You needed more. The prude in you was nowhere to be found, replaced by a feverish, sexual demon. 

You rolled your hips incessantly against his hand, seeking out more, more. He breathed a short chuckle, eating up your need and offering it happily in the form of a second digit joining to stretch you further. 

Your head nearly fell back with the intensity of your moan, had Mammon not kept his firm grip on your chin. No, you weren’t going to be looking away from him, little demon. 

Those fingers quickly found steady rhythm in your slick cavern. Your chest heaved so quickly you couldn’t keep up, constant moans stealing your breath. Your eyes stayed trained to the ashy blue before you, flicking downwards every now and then to watch as you swallowed his fingers inside you. 

He rocked his hips with every thrust, teasing you with the idea of his cock filling you instead. The thought sent you reeling and you pulled him to you then, crashing your lips together in a heated kiss. 

One of your hands tangled through his hair, your other still gripping the edge of his pants to keep him grounded as close as possible. He drank your moans down and faintly spilled his own, loving the way you were slowly losing yourself. He unfurled his fingers inside your drenched heat, searching, feeling fated to push your senses down the cliff they teetered on. 

“Mmm! Aahh, yes...!” you cried softly, like music to his ears. 

The Avatar of Greed smiled against the corner of your mouth. _Gotcha._

He trained his fingers to that spot, effectively abusing the bundle of nerves while he added another finger to join in your wetness. He mirrored your grip in his hair with his own hand at the back of your neck, watching you fall apart with his ministrations. 

Your juices dripped steadily down his fingers, into palm, running along the table below your shaking frame. Mammon felt anticipation course through him, knowing how close you were to your climax. He busied his thumb to work the swollen bud of your clit. 

Soft curses and the spell of his name became your mantra. Your eyes pricked with tears from the stimulation, your face deliciously lewd, glowing with light perspiration. Your eyes ran along the striking face of the demon a breath away from you. You hummed a choir of moans, caressing his face in your hands sweetly as he still had yours. You held his cheek, traced his parted lips, touched him like he almost wasn’t real. 

He hit your g-spot with precision yet again, shocking your soft expression. He playfully reflected your look of awe back at you, relishing in the pleasure he gave. The grin he wore never faltered. 

“C’mon, baby,” he cooed lowly, “cum for me.” The hand at the back of your neck fisted roughly into your hair.

His eyes sparked hellfire. 

“Cum for your King.” 

The order shocked electric ripples through every inch, and you gripped him in an attempt to hide away into the crook of his neck, but he held you fast by the hold in your hair. He refused to be depraved of the image of your face as your walls clamped around his fingers, milking what he had to give you. 

He leaned forward to bite your bottom lip, devouring the sight of your eyes rolling in your head as you reached climax for him. The pleasure flooding through you pierced intensely enough to silence you, only a long and breathless gasp escaping. 

Your core gushed around his fingers, squelching loud and naughty in the room as he fingerfucked you through your high. Your wings flapped lightly in rhythm to your walls clenching around his fingers. Your eyes were shut now, rocking your hips along with his movements as you came down. Your panting breath filled the air around you, not noticing Mammon gazing at you like you were his destiny. 

Eyes still closed, you felt his lips collide with yours. You sighed against his mouth, catching your breath in segments. You ran your hands over his chest in languid, lazy strokes, so content to just feel his body. 

You broke away, his fingers still easing in and out of you slowly. You grasped his wrist, whining protest as he knowingly overstimulated you. His concentration creaked into a smirk that did little to settle your racing heart. 

His hand retracted from between your thighs, leaving the pleasant feeling of having been so perfectly filled. You exhaled deeply, squeezing your legs around his waist as you noted the dull void that was left. 

Each of you stared back at the other, chests rising and falling in sync, both in awe of the moment you’d just shared. 

Mammon never thought you could look more beautiful than you did just then. Everything about your flushed face, hot breaths, your bruised lips, the trail of purple down your neck, and further down where your breasts bounced to allow your lungs to fill their need for oxygen in tandem with his own—everything, all of it, he needed to have immortalized in his memory. 

However, the moment was broken, interrupted by the sound of the kitchen door swinging open and closed. 

If Mammon were truly an asshole, he would’ve cackled at your face of mortified shock as you scrambled off the table to adjust your skirt, having no time to bother with your crooked underwear as Beelzebub rounded the corner. 

“Ah, there you are. Lord Diavolo’s back, said he wanted to speak to you.” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to turn to face Beel. You stared wide-eyed at Mammon who stood carelessly half naked in front of you. You noticed how devilish his grin suddenly looked. He didn’t bother to even glance at the Avatar of Gluttony. Mammon’s only response was to hold your gaze painfully still and lift his hand—the hand coated in your flavor—to his mouth. 

And slowly licked his fingers like it was the best damned thing he’d ever savored. 

Your stomach shrank, voice a squeak as you forced yourself to not make a show. Beel could _not_ find out, oh gods—

“Huh? What, do you guys have snacks in here you’re hiding from me?!” Beel nearly shouted, feeling left out. “I want some!” 

Oh, you could just die.

Mammon smiled sweetly around his fingers, satisfied, popping them out of his mouth.  
“Nah, sorry Beel. My ‘lil devil made this just for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Here lies Atticus; a demon who never mattered._
> 
> So, fun fact:  
> I have _never_ publicly uploaded a smut fic within my whole writing career, until this.  
> I started writing smut roleplay with a friend when we were quite young. In fact, the only person who’s ever read my smut work has been that very friend—who’s essentially my editor—all the way back from those days to being the first to read it now. Therefore, a BIG shoutout, kudos, and credit to Cabbage! Thank you for your continued willingness to read the sparse, lame-ass fruits of my labor. You the real MVP, the greatest of all time.  
> Anyways. If you’ve made it through, I hope you’ve enjoyed! Any and all constructive criticism welcome! Tell me whatcha liked; tell me whatcha didn’t really like. As always, kudos and any comments appreciated!  
> Side note: i am n e r v o u s lmao, be gentle?

**Author's Note:**

> I very much hope you enjoyed this oneshot collection!  
> Not bad for my first fic in literally years.  
> *sweatdrop*


End file.
